Fearscent
by TribalGirl
Summary: It never left them.  Ever.  Since the day that fire had destroyed his home, it always hung around them.  Even when they were laughing, there was the reminder of their fear. - The series from the POV of an awesome yet unappreciated character.


**Okay! New story up! And once again, I am paranoid that I will get flamed! Oh well. Read it, please.**

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><p>His Twoleg was dead.<p>

Saladin knew he wasn't supposed to care. It went against his nature and the general philosophy of cats. But still, he couldn't help feeling a pang as he prowled the empty house; especially the bedroom, where Grace's familiar scent was mixed with the odor of sickness.

But even that was now fading.

And what was almost worse, there was no one to feed him any red snapper. An unfamiliar young female Twoleg came in every day, but she only left him a bowl of chopped meat, of uncertain provenance - the only way Saladin had of identifying it was when she'd called it "hamburger". What in Silverpelt's name was a hamburger?

There wasn't just the female, of course. That male that had been around the house so much in the days before Grace's death still refused to leave. McIntyre, that was it - or at least Saladin thought so, having listened to his discussions with Grace. why did he insist on hanging around? There was nothing there anymore. Yet he kept coming, along with other Twolegs, making talk that was absolutely incomprehensible. Sometimes he was accompanied by a male with black overfur, a man who moved almost like a cat.

For almost a quarter-moon there was nothing to do. Then one morning, an enormous group of people appeared in the dead Twoleg place, where all the stones stood upright in the ground. So many of them. Saladin had been several days with no source of entertainment whatsoever, so he squeezed out of an open window - scuffing his collar in the process, he noticed with some dismay - and made his way down the hill for a closer look.

Most of the Twolegs he recognized. They'd all been over at Grace's house, at one point or another - it helped that Saladin never forgot a scent once he picked it up. Saladin may not have been an expert on the ways of Twolegs, but he could tell from the way they carried themselves that these were expecting something big, something monumental.

A group of people came down the walk, and Saladin darted into the bushes to hide. His nose wrinkled at the half-remembered scent. That family, the ones who snarled and yowled and bristled, even amongst each other, but never meant any harm. And they brought their dog. Involuntarily, Saladin's hackles went up, and he let out a low growl. He _hated_ that dog.

Behind them came two other Twolegs, carrying a far more familiar scent. Saladin's ears perked up. Grace's grandkits. Saladin didn't mind seeing these two - they were kind to him, especially the younger male, Dan. Besides, he could tell that Grace loved them, so he was willing to extend his friendship to them as well. Even if they did sometimes forget his red snapper.

The others... Saladin backed out of the bush and continued off behind the screen of shrubbery. There was the sound of a tussle and he looked back - the family with the dog had caught Dan and were holding him in a way Saladin was fairly certain Twolegs were not meant to be held. Unless they regularly hung out with their heads hanging downward... Saladin hesitated a moment, then continued on his way.

It was only when he got near the front that he realized what was going on. There was a long wooden box being lowered into the ground, and an unfamiliar Twoleg saying things in which Saladin often caught the sound "Grace". So... they were burying her. Covering her with soil, like a piece of fresh-kill one intends to eat later. Not that Saladin had any experience with hunting, but some things you knew from instinct. His muscles tightened. Why were they doing this?

Then several more scents hit his nose, triggering faded memories. Saladin turned and trotted off to investigate.

The first thing he noticed was that all these Twolegs seemed a bit lost. They were expecting something, but they had no idea what it was. There were several exceptions, however - Twolegs with a distinct sense of purpose. The old male, for instance, with the suspicious-smelling stick that he leaned on when he walked. He seemed kind enough, but he was always hiding something. Then that female... It took Saladin a moment to place the memory, he'd been so young. The one who had stood in front of Grace and yowled angrily while Saladin could practically feel the grief emanating from her. This time, though, she was tight, rigid, and in control. Twolegs were so complicated.

Next there were two half-grown kits, about the age of Grace's grandchildren. Siblings, judging by their scent and the sight of them. Saladin had no idea why their smell seemed so familiar. He opened his mouth wide, tasting the air, drawing the scent over the organ in the roof of his mouth. There. Clinging to their overfur - the faintest scent of that woman, the one who purred and smiled and radiated cruel intent. She was the only one who ever inspired fear in Grace. And these were her children. Saladin could tell, now that he remembered. Were they anything like their mother? He shrank back, concealing himself even farther.

Suddenly it all became overwhelming. The sheer multitude of people, the bewilderment at why they were burying his Twoleg. The tension in the air so thick it was practically smothering. The fact that the vast majority of these people, with only a few exceptions, didn't care that Grace was dead - a good deal of them were _glad_. Lost within this mass of confusion and conflicting sensations, Saladin did the only thing he could. He turned around and hurried back up the hill, to the comforting shelter of Grace's mansion, which had been his home and his protection all these years.

It wouldn't be that way for much longer.

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><p><strong>Yeah, I'm lazy :P I originally intended to include the fire scene in this chapter, but I got impatient to publish my new story. So... you'll have to wait.<strong>

**Aaaaand it looks like I inadvertently gave Saladin psychic-Jayfeather-mind-reading powers. Groan. Oh well, the story won't work half so well without them, so I'll just come up with an excuse. How about, he can tell from the pheromones being released? Not a really good explanation, but at least he's not walking in anyone's dreams. (Yet.)**

**Please review! I love reviews! And if you fave or subscribe, review anyway!**


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